The Last Night
by yaminohikariHEART
Summary: Kyle goes on a rampage after walking in on Stan cutting himself. Oneshot, Style. R&R!


**HELLO!! This is '-'soni13'-'!! I finally got this up!! Yay for me!**

**So anwayz, the.amethyst.alchemyst and I wrote this like, a week ago. She did all the Kyle parts, and I did all of Stan's. Leave us a review and tell us what you think, mmkay? **

**DISCLAIMER: no owny south park.**

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It wasn't like he wanted to kill himself. No, it wasn't like that at all. The knife was just a release, letting feelings seep from his veins. In an odd, twisted way, it felt...good. The pain on his arm made it easier to forget the ache in his heart.

Tonight was just another appointment with the gleaming, silver doctor, the only one who could take his pain away. But as Stan pressed the knife against his skin, the bathroom door burst open.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Kyle screamed when he saw the knife. He strode forward and ripped the offending object from Stan's grasp. Yanking the sleeve of his shirt farther up, he spotted the other scars. "How long have you been doing this?!"

Stan didn't respond. He stared up at Kyle, at the knife in Kyle's hand, and felt his head begin to swirl. How was he going to bullshit his way out of this, like had done so many time with his parents? "Oh yeah, got that when I fell off my bike"? "I'm so stupid, I slipped and cut myself while helping mom with dinner"?

There was no way out.

Kyle glared. "You're thinking of a way out of this, aren't you? Damn it," he cursed, running gentle fingers over the scars. "Why, Stan? How could you..." he choked. "How?"

"How?" The sarcasm was layered thickly on Stan's voice, hopefully hiding the raw pain beneath. "Well fuck, Kyle, it's not that hard."

Kyle snapped, throwing all his strength behind a punch to the gut that had Stan doubled over as he threw the other boy against the wall, leaning close. "You. Know. What. The. Fuck. I. Mean," he growled, hands squeezing Stan's shoulders. "WHY?!"

Stan stared blankly at the ground, unable to look Kyle in the eye. What did he want to hear? Somehow it seemed an "I'm sorry" wouldn't suffice. But there was no way in hell that he could say...what was really weighing his heart down. After all, that was what had started all this first place.

"I...don't know."

"THE FUCK YOU DON'T!" Kyle ground his friend's shoulders mercilessly into the wall, taking in his wince. "What?! I thought you like pain?!" At another flinch, he went on, volume rising. "No?! Then maybe you'll explain WHY YOU'RE CUTTING YOURSELF!!"

Stan broke.

"Because of you, you goddamn asshole! Because no matter what I felt, what I wanted to say, I couldn't!"

Kyle's grip loosened, and Stan used this advantage to force him off. He tried to escape, to storm off to a place where no one could find him, but Kyle had other ideas.

Kyle shot out an arm and clotheslined Stan, using his own weight against him. "You think you're going somewhere?" he hissed. "I don't think so. You're gonna stay here and explain what the fuck you mean." Kyle knew. Oh, he knew, all right. Or he hoped. But he had to know for sure.

Stan narrowed his eyes at his so-called super best friend. "Get. The fuck. Away from me."

"No."

"GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU, KYLE! It's not up to you to save me! Did the thought ever cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, I would be better off DEAD?" Stan hissed the last part. God, he wanted out of here. He wanted his knife back. He wanted it all to just stop hurting so goddamn much.

Kyle stumbled backward. "Better... better off dead?" His eyes widened as he reached out, but Stan shrunk back. "How could you even think that? How could you..." He fell back against the wall. "Jesus, Stan..."

"Just stay away from me." The words coming out of his mouth were the exact opposite of the ones running through his head, but he couldn't help himself. He had been on his own for so long now, he couldn't remember how to open up to someone else.

"I can handle myself."

_I need you._

"Leave me alone."

_Don't let me go._

"I don't want you anywhere near me!"

_I can't do this on my own._

Stan kept the words inside, kept it all inside, just like he always hade, just like he always would. He turned to walk out of the bathroom and leave the only person who could save him.

Kyle glared after his friend's back, then opened the bathroom window and threw the knife out, as hard as he could. Hearing Stan's bedroom door slam, he followed, surprised to find it unlocked. Stan was curled up on his bed, knees tucked to his chest. "Stan?" he said softly. "I'm sorry. I just..." He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

There came only a muffled groan from Stan. "Is it me?" Kyle asked, slipping a hand along Stan's side, the other boy' muscles tensing up.

"Is it me?" he had asked. Well, no shit, Sherlock, who else could it be? Wendy? They had broken up ages ago, in like fifth grade. How could Kyle be so blind?

Stan's heart was racing, his whole body tense and focused on Kyle's hand. But he wouldn't let himself say it, couldn't let himself say it, because he was such a coward. There was only one thing he could rely on, and that was Kyle's friendship. If he lost that over a stupid crush...there would be worse ramifications than a few simple slices across the wrist.

Kyle watched his friend's reaction. "It is, isn't it?" he murmured, slipping fully onto the bed and sliding an arm across Stan's waist. "I'm so sorry... So sorry..." His voice was muffled as he buried his face in Stan's shoulder blade.

Stan turned to finally look at Kyle. "What do you have to be sorry for? You're not the one who..." Wordlessly, he gestured to his arms.

"Kyle, this was never your fault. This was just me, being my usual fucked up self. But it's all better now; I promise, I won't do it anymore." Stan finished this lie with a slight smile, all for Kyle. And he prayed to a god he wasn't sure existed that Kyle would leave him alone, because he was being just too damn sweet, and Stan couldn't keep this facade up for much longer.

"You're lying," Kyle growled, anger flaring again. "Dammit, will you just tell me what's wrong? I'm not gonna be afraid of you, or think any less of you. Tell me!"

Stan rolled over, turning his face away from Kyle. The admission was bubbling up at the back of his throat, but he forced it down. He would let it out, later, after he convinced Kyle that he was sane and got his good old friend the knife back. He would let it out in the only way he knew how.

Kyle sighed. This was obviously going nowhere. "If you're thinking about getting that knife back, there's no chance in hell. It's gone." At Stan's incredulous, slightly furious look, he continued. "Damn it. I know it's me, or something to do with me, otherwise you'd be talking. So stop being an asshole and talk."

Stan glared at him. "Why do you care so fucking much? It's my goddamn life, and I'll do whatever I goddamn want to with it."

Kyle glared right back, masking his true thoughts. What was he supposed to do? Burst out the rainbow miniskirt and proudly proclaim that he was in love with his best friend? That he cared because losing Stan was the worst possible thing that was just barely imaginable? "I care because..."

Stan watched him, forgetting to breathe. No fucking way. Were the same thoughts that were torturing Stan running through Kyle's mind? Like he said, no fucking way. It was probably just his screwed up little brain, twisting his best friend's reaction. But still...

_Suck it up_, Kenny's voice whispered in Kyle's head. Now.

Kyle blinked.

"I care because I love you."

Stan's heart stopped beating. He lifted his head to face Kyle. But the pessimistic side of his brain, the side craving the blade, got the better of him.

_Of course he loves you. You're like a brother to him. Or maybe this is just the best way to break you, huh? A little lie can go a long way. And of course, he feels **obligated** to save you. _

_Why the fuck would Kyle love you? How could anyone love someone who can't even deal with his problems in a normal way, but instead turns to cutting himself, like a weak girl. What makes you think that you deserve someone like him?_

Kyle watched as Stan's eyes darkened and he turned away again, curling away from the heat of Kyle's body. "I don't believe you," he murmured.

Kyle glared at Stan's back. "You don't, huh?"

A smirk slipped itself over his lips as he reached under Stan to brush his fingers along the other boy's ribs. Stan squirmed. Kyle repeated the motion, and watched as his victim flipped onto his back, and then his lips were on Stan's and suddenly the other boy wasn't moving anymore.

Stan froze. Kyle pulled back, concerned. "Dude...? I thought...that was what you wanted."

Hell fucking yes he wanted it, but he was scared. Goddammit, he was scared out of his mind that he was going to get hurt, or even worse...that Kyle would be dissapointed in him. Suddenly tears were rising up, burning the backs of his eyes. When was the last time he cried? Salt water tears, not the crimson variety? Thinking back, Stan couldn't remember. But this was obliviously not the time.

Unfortunately, his tears didn't seem to be listening to this logic, and began to spill over.

"Awww..." Kyle brushed his fingers along Stan's cheeks. "Did that upset you?"

God, his touch was so soft. "That's not it..." His throat felt raw, and his heart was aching worse than ever before. Without warning, he was sobbing, and Kyle was leaning over him, kissing his tears away.

"So what is it?" Kyle asked, lips brushing over Stan's skin, fingers ghosting up his sides as he leaned over the other boy, forehead to forehead.

Stan looked at Kyle through bloodshot eyes. "Why are you doing this? What is it that you see in me that's making you say these things, do these things? I'm nowhere near perfect, or even worthy." _I'm nowhere near as good as you._

"Worthy?" Kyle murmured, lowering his head to brush his lips along Stan's neck. "Worthy of what? Me? I don't deserve you," he conceded, wrapping his arms around Stan.

But Stan shook his head. "Look at me Kyle. Look at what I've done. You would never act so..." _weak_. Stan couldn't bring himself to say the word, but it hung invisibly between them. Fuck it all, why couldn't he stop crying?

It was Kyle's turn to shake his head. "You did it because you thought you had nowhere else to turn. And now you do. Me? I think I would if I had to go through what you did."

''God, this sucks. I feel like such a pussy, sobbing like a girl. You must think I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic," Kyle soothed, running hands through Stan's hair, then shifting off him and curling up to his side.

Stan just lay there, soaking up Kyle's heat and affection. He could stay here forever. "Thanks dude."

"You're welcome." Kyle buried his face in Stan's shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around him. "And if you ever touch a knife again, I'll sick Cartman on you. For a week straight."

Stan sighed into Kyle's jew-fro. "I can't promise that. I'm not a perfect person; in case you haven't noticed, I fuck things up on a regular basis. All I can tell you is that I'll try."

"Good enough. Now go to sleep," Kyle mumbled.

"_This is the last night you'll spend alone._

_Look me in the eye so I know you know._

_I'm everywhere you want me to be._

_The last night you'll spend alone,_

_I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go._

_I'm everything you need me to be._

_I won't let you say goodbye,_

_And I'll be your reason why._

_The Last Night,_

_Away from me."_

"The Last Night" by Skillet

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